


Won't You Stay?

by lurkingspecter



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkingspecter/pseuds/lurkingspecter
Summary: John haunts Merle.





	Won't You Stay?

During the rebuilding process after the Hunger was defeated, Merle often found himself being called away to repair Pan’s churches. Everyone had heard the story of the first church of Funguston, and Pan’s followers were eager for him to have a hand in reconstructing their own churches, as if this would somehow lend those buildings strength.

Pan’s temples were usually humble, fitting the earthy vibe that most of his worshipers gave off, but the one that he was working on this evening was one of the loftier ones. It had flying buttresses, ribbed vaulting, stained glass windows—the works. The stained-glass window behind the pulpit had been shattered by the Hunger, but the sun was setting and it was directly behind the glass that remained. Now part of the room was lit vividly by those colors, as if a jagged spotlight had been thrown upon it.

In the front row of pews, sitting in that colored light, was a man.

Merle knocked on his hardhat to get his attention.

“Hey man, the ceiling’s crumbling. If you wanted to help you should’ve checked in first and got some safety gear.”

The man turned his head. The colors shifted across his face, and for a second Merle thought that the light was tricking him, but then the colors settled. The man’s face took on a familiar expression of surprise.

Merle found that he couldn’t take another step.

It was John.

“You okay Merle?”

Merle glanced back at the acolyte who had been following behind him slowly, weighed down by an armful of construction tools.

“I’m fine, I just...”

Merle looked back at the pews. John was gone.

“I just thought that I saw something.”

*

After that, Merle kept seeing John in places ruined by the Hunger. He saw him walking the streets of Goldcliff, and looking into the rift that had opened outside of Refuge, and looking out over battlefields that were strewn with memorials to the dead. He even saw him when he was out adventuring with his pupils, walking through clearings in forests where those tendrils of darkness had smashed the trees to splinters. For a time, he seemed mostly concerned with those ruined places. When he noticed Merle, he would look at him curiously, as if wondering why he was there too, and then disappear.

*

A year passed, and most of the rebuilding was finished. They had rebuilt the world better, stronger, and fairer, and Merle was as proud of it as everyone else was.

There were no more ruins for John to haunt, and after Merle didn’t see him for a while, he thought that that was the end of it.

Then John started appearing everywhere.

The first break in the lull came when he visited a public cemetery in Neverwinter. It was a new one that had been built after the Day of Story and Song, and most of the people in it were those that had fallen that day. Merle visited it whenever he was in town because Lucretia had reserved a section of it for Bureau members. Their graves were at the back, at the top of the gentle incline that the graveyard was spread out on.

This evening, there was already someone up there.

At this point Merle was able to recognize John’s ghost instantly, even from a distance.

He slowed to a crawl and weaved between graves as quietly as he could. He knew by this point that charging at him only made him disappear faster. John stood with his hands in his pockets, his attention fixed on the gravestone at his feet.

As luck would have it, there were a few statues near the Bureau’s plot of land that were big enough to hide behind. He came close enough to see the details of John’s new form. He was like a shadow, but after squinting at him a while Merle thought that he could discern some color in him, only very muted, as if seen through dark glass.

He stepped out of his hiding place and reached out to tap John’s arm. His hand passed right through him, but John must have felt him anyway, because he jumped and backed away from Merle. He looked between Merle and the grave, shamefaced, as if he had been caught doing something illicit.

“You can’t keep running from me forever, John.”

John’s particles scattered like smoke. Merle sighed.

“Or maybe you can.”

He looked down at the grave that John had been standing at. It was Johann’s. The grave had been enchanted so that above Johann’s name two lights always glowed—a blue light and a green light. The grave was heaped with flowers; even a year after his passing, Johann’s admirers were still showing their love and dedication.

John didn’t have a tombstone. No one had acknowledged his passing. No one missed him, and few people cared enough to hate him.

Merle left the graveyard with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

*

He started seeing John in the most innocent of places—in an empty hall at Lucas’s school, in the alley behind one of Taako’s restaurants. Now, his eyes were always on Merle instead of the place that they were visiting. It seemed that his priorities had shifted, although Merle still didn’t know what those priorities were.

Despite this new attention, though, he still never stayed when Merle asked him too. It was infuriating. Merle felt as if they were playing a game of tag that he would never win.

Mavis was the first to notice that something was wrong. They had just finished an adventuring gig and were walking back to their inn after saying goodbye his latest student. It was sunset, and although John appeared during the day sometimes, Merle knew that when darkness fell he was more likely appear. It made it easier for him to hide.

Mookie, walking on his left, was prattling on about a group of bandits they had fought on their adventure. Mavis was walking on his right, silently listening to him with an amused gleam in her eyes. Merle scanned the shadows under the trees that lined the street, only listening to Mookie with half an ear. He felt a tug on his right hand. Mavis was frowning up at him.

“Dad, Mookie asked you a question.”

“Sorry, sport. Repeat that for me.”

“I said, wasn’t it awesome when I tripped that guy and basically saved the day?”

Merle grinned at the memory of Mookie tackling the legs of a man twice his size and sending him rolling down a hill.

“Oh yeah, totally. You saved all of our hides.”

Mookie beamed. He skipped along in silence now, replaying the fight in his head.

Merle turned his attention back to the shadows.

“You’ve been distracted all day, Dad,” said Mavis. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

She sighed.

“Please don’t lie to me. I’ve seen that look you get, like you expect something to jump out of the bushes. You’ve got that look right now.”

Merle looked down into her serious face.

“Okay, you got me. There is something that’s been bothering me, but it’s not anything that you need to be worried about.”

This only made her frown more.

“As long as you act like this I don’t think I’ll be able to stop worrying. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here, okay? I’m old enough to handle this stuff now.”

Merle squeezed her hand.

“I’m gonna have to pass on that offer, but I appreciate it. Thanks for looking out for me.”

She smiled.

“Adventuring partners have to have each other’s backs. Isn’t that right, Mookie?”

“Yeah!”

Merle laughed and ruffled his hair. For the moment, he made himself forget about everything else but them.

“Let’s hurry and get back to the inn before they stop serving free dinner.”

When Merle looked out the window of their room that night, he saw John in the street below, staring intently up at him. He glanced at Mavis and Mookie, asleep in their bed across the room.

It was time to get help.

*

Between Merle’s adventuring gigs and Barry’s new soul-reaping job it was hard to coordinate their schedules, but one winter day they found that they were both going to be in Neverwinter at the same time. Merle led him to a tavern, ordered two mugs of hot cider, and sat down next to him at the bar.

“You said that you’ve got a job-related question?”

“Yeah, and I know how this question is gonna sound, but please try to take it seriously.”

Barry leaned forward, looking more curious now.

“Of course I will.”

“Okay then. Here’s my problem: I’ve been seeing John’s ghost. Why is that happening?”

Barry’s face fell. He leaned back.

“Oh man. Merle.”

Merle braced himself for it.

“I know what you’re going through. When I thought that I had lost Lup I saw her face everywhere, but it would always turn out to be just a stranger that looked like her. Sometimes your brain tricks you into seeing what you want to see.”

“Did those strangers vanish into thin air?”

Barry hesitated. Merle nodded, and took a sip of his cider.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Hallucinating the dead is also a normal part of the grieving process.”

Merle snorted.

“For someone who rounds up wayward souls for a living you sure are skeptical.”

“That’s exactly it, though. Believe me, if John was out there I would have heard about it by now. I can’t imagine how big his bounty would be.”

Merle stared into his mug and swirled the liquid pensively. He felt Barry’s hand on his shoulder.

“He was too far gone, Merle. There isn’t anything that you could’ve done. I’m far from the right person to tell you how to do your grieving, but it’s been over a year now. I want you to move on and enjoy this new world we’ve built.”

“I am enjoying it—I’ve got my kids, I’ve got the adventuring, I’ve got you guys...I’m just not enjoying _this_ part of it.”

Merle finished off his drink and sighed.

“Whatever. Believe me or don’t. Thanks for the chat. I’ll pick up the tab.”

Barry took the hint.

“Right. Thanks.”

He stood up and shrugged on his coat.

“If I hear anything about him you’ll be the first to know. See you around?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Merle sat at the bar with his empty drink for a minute. He was wary of leaving the warmth and happy chatter of this crowded room. After wrestling with the idea of buying another drink he told himself to stop being a baby, tipped the bartender, and went out into the cold, dark air. There was a full moon out that night and hard wind was driving clouds across it, so that one second it would be bright and clear and the next the world would be cast into darkness.

Merle had been walking for only a block when he noticed the shadow that was keeping pace with him across the street.

“We’ve been gossiping about you, Johnny,” he called.

This had no effect. Frustration suddenly overtook him. He stopped and jabbed a finger at the figure.

“If you’re not gonna tell me what the hell you want, can you just leave me alone?”

The moon passed behind a cloud. When it emerged again, John was gone. Merle sagged against a lamppost.

“I didn’t actually mean it.”

John left him alone for a whole month after that. Merle thought that maybe this was a good thing. Maybe now he would find some peace and stop jumping at shadows.

Instead, he developed insomnia.

*

On one of those sleepless nights he was staying at his old beach dwarf community. He and Hecuba were on friendly terms now, so she was letting him sleep over at her house while he hung around for a few days to check on some old friends. None of them were awake to talk with now, though.

Lately he had gotten in the habit of taking long walks when he couldn’t sleep, and this night he was walking along the beach. When his joints started aching from walking he sat down on the sand and watched the waves. It was impossible not to think of the last time he had done this. He wished that he had said something, but couldn’t think of anything that would have been enough.

A chill ran down his spine. In his peripheral he saw a dark shape sit down beside him, but he didn’t dare turn his head. He cast around for the right words but only managed to find two, the two that had kept floating to the top of his mind over and over again during the past month.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be.”

Merle looked to the side quickly, trying to catch the shadow off guard, but he was already gone. Merle stood up shakily, stared at the spot where he had been, and set off back toward Hecuba’s house. He walked slowly this time, half hoping that he would hear footsteps hurrying to catch up.

*

After that John started invading his personal space too, but he was shy about it, and even more quick to flee. One night when he was in bed in his home at Bottlenose Cove, he managed to catch him before he ran out. John was standing in a corner near the open door, and when he saw that Merle had noticed him he stepped into the hallway. Merle sat up.

“Don’t go.”

John hesitated, then nodded and came back in. He stood in that same corner all night, just watching him. Merle watched him as well, wondering if he was actually going to stay this time or if he was going to run away like always. He struggled to stay awake. Hours slipped by. Eventually, he heard a soft voice across the room.

“You need to rest, Merle.”

Merle squinted at his dark form, which was becoming even more blurry in his sleep-deprived haze.

“No.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He kept his word. He was the last thing that Merle saw before he gave in and his eyes shut for good.

*

A few weeks later he turned out the light and John immediately appeared above him, standing right next to his pillow.

“Buddy, you know that I appreciate the company, but I can’t sleep with you leaning over me like that.”

John didn’t budge. After a few minutes Merle grumbled, turned over, and put a pillow over his head.

The next instant, Merle found himself sitting in a comfortable leather chair. Music played in the distance; the song was something quiet and nostalgic, but he couldn’t make out the words. On the side table next to him was a black and white photograph with a group of people, their arms looped around each other, each of them either smiling or laughing.

John was in an identical chair across from him. For the first time since his death, he looked like a real, solid person instead of a shadow.

“This is my old apartment,” he said. “I tried to recreate it to the best of my ability, but as you can see my memory of the details isn’t great.”

He gestured to the picture that Merle had noticed. Although at a glance Merle had gotten a general impression of happiness from the crowd, he saw now that all of their faces were blurred out.

“Is this for real?” Merle asked. “I mean, am I just talking to a dream version of you that I made up, or is this actually the ghost of John that’s been following me for over a year?”

“This is the real John. Or, as close to real as I can get at this point. I’m sort of like this record that we’re listening to; I’m an impression that’s left over, not the actual thing. What was left of me wasn’t even substantial enough to make it to the astral plane. That’s why I’m stuck here.”

“Is that why the reapers don’t know about you?”

John nodded.

“Yes. There isn’t enough of me left to collect. I don’t even know if you could properly call me a ghost.”

Merle stood up and wandered around the room. There was a bookcase stuffed with books, so many that the collection had spilled onto the top of it where the books were arranged in teetering piles. Like the faces in the pictures, their spines were blank. The window looked down on a still street without a single car or pedestrian. It was dusk outside, at that point where the sun is completely gone and there are a few stars out, but the sky is still tinged with blue.

He sat back down and picked up the photograph. There was one question that had been bothering him since John had pulled him away to share that last sunset.

“I know that being dead sucks and all that, but are you happy? At least a little?”

John considered this for a moment.

"I’m not sure how I feel. Life is like a dream to me, now. I blink in and out of existence. Sometimes time passes too slowly, or too fast. I have difficulty arranging my thoughts in the correct order and I find myself doing things without understanding why,” he paused, as if even now it was difficult to think. “But in the midst of all that, I’ve found an anchor: you. When the Hunger disbanded my bonds with it broke, and I thought that I had nothing left—but my bond with you was still there.”

As he had been speaking his gaze had wandered over the walls, as if he was collecting his ideas from the various photographs and paintings, but now it settled on Merle’s face.

“I love you, Merle.”

Merle’s palms began to sweat, and he realized that he was smearing the photograph. He put it back on the table, looked around to see if John had conjured up a glass of water by chance, didn’t find one, and cleared his throat.

"In what way?"

The room shifted. Something was slightly off, as if all the furniture had moved just an inch to the right. The record player skipped for a second before picking up the tune again.

John smiled sadly.

"I'm not sure. I never had time to find out."

Now the walls were starting to blur, the record player had gone silent, and Merle fought to hold onto the dream as John’s last words reached his ears.

"And now I don't think that I ever will."

Merle lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to force himself back into sleep, but it was useless. After a while he sat up and glared at the empty air next to his bed.

"You're a ghost now, dumbass. You've got all the time in the world."

*

Although his later attempts to visit Merle in his dreams had limited success, John kept visiting. When Merle sensed him in the room he greeted him and then went on with whatever he was doing, not expecting anything in return. It seemed as if directly interacting with other people was what tended to knock him out of alignment with the rest of existence, so their communication had to happen in small, uneven chunks. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Merle was getting used to it.

One night he went into his living room and found John sitting in front of the fireplace. Merle lit the fire, made a cup of cocoa, and pulled up a chair next to him. From his position John was still mostly in darkness, but Merle could see the gleam of the fire on one polished shoe.

“Do you think that this is ever going to end?” he asked after a while.

“I don’t know. It seems like the more I’m around you the more real I feel, so we might actually be prolonging things.”

Merle nodded. He drummed his fingers on the mug thoughtfully.

“Hm. I guess I’ll just have to get used to you hanging around then, huh?”

“I guess so.”

Merle took a few sips of cocoa, held his cold feet up to the fire, and sighed contentedly.

“I might learn to like this, actually.”

“I think I could, too.”

They sat in silence until the fire died down. When Merle stoked it the flames leapt high, throwing out a sudden burst of light, and John’s shadow fled, but not before Merle saw the smile on his face.

*

A few nights later John tried to dream with him again. Same place, same chairs, same positions as their last attempts. Merle could tell already that the dream was on shaky foundations; the walls and ceiling were sagging, and looked as if they were about to buckle and fall. 

This time John stood up immediately, crossed the space between them with a quick, decisive step, leaned down, and—

Merle woke up. He thought of John and, smiling, pressed a hand to his lips.

They would get it right one day.


End file.
